Location: Port Louis, Mauritius
The day starts at 06:00 with my daily fitness routine, followed by placing fenders along our starboard side. A tug boat should be coming at 07:00 and towing Argo alongside to the shipyard. We need to lift her out of the water so we can get a new propeller and shaft installed.
If you missed our blogs in the past few days, yes, you heard it right. Our propeller has gone missing, and the prop shaft has sheered off in the middle of the Indian Ocean.
Everybody is excited. In the absence of a propeller and stable wind, the past two days saw us handling sails more than in the previous fifty days combined. It gave us the opportunity to appreciate “pure “sailing, to make peace with the uncertain ETA, to enjoy the serenity, and to stay in harmony with the elements.
Now, it is time to explore the beautiful island.
Breakfast. Overnight oat with chia seeds and frozen dragon fruit. Delicious. I keep scanning the port exit, half a mile away, for the tug boat. Here it is! “Everybody, look, this is our tug. It is low. We need to lower our fenders to almost reach the waterline. ”
But the tug is not coming for us. It seems to be standing off. Aha, a huge container ship exits the port. We need to wait. Another huge cargo ship enters the port. We wait some more. They have priority. Island life depends on all the goods on those cargo ships, and we don’t want to hold them off.
Then we wait some more.
And some more.
“Christian, hi! It’s Tomer from Argo. How is it going? Yes, I’m very well, thanks. Listen, we’re waiting for our tug and have a full program scheduled for today. Diving is booked at 10:30. When is our tug coming? ”
Christian is our local agent. He says there is quite some commercial traffic in port, so we need patience.
Patience we have.
Waiting.
Waiting.
Zzzzzzzzzzz.
“Christian, yes, it’s Tomer again. Yes, aha, yes, cargo traffic. We need to coordinate with the dive shop and with our taxis. Yes, thanks, standing by. See you soon! ”
07:00 becomes 08:00, then 09:30, then 11:20. Still no tug. Quessedillas for lunch. The tug should have been here at 13:00 but is not here.
In the meantime, we use the time for Marine Bio class, watching a movie in the salon, and catching up with home and the world after the offline weeks at sea. Elections. What? Aha. Missing the drama can be a blessing.
“Any word from the tug? “asks Allie. As she keeps updating our rolling plan, she needs to coordinate the taxis, the accommodation check-in, the dinner restaurant, and move our diving for tomorrow.
Twelve phone calls with Christian later and countless conversations with the port control and the shipyard, the tug finally arrives at 15:30. They don’t want to tie alongside; they want a tow bow line. Okay, we have one ready, too.
I brief the staff and assign roles. They each take a team of students to carry out the tasks.
“Kackie – two generators and hydraulics ON, then raise two shots (half our anchor chain) before the tug arrives, two more shots after tying the tow line. Ainsley – monitor the anchor alarm and give me a shout if we’re drifting. Gabe – tow-line on the starboard bow. Ben – prepare a dinghy to launch. Meg – Lower all fenders; two are roaming on the port side. Will – on the helm, keep the tug ten degrees to starboard as a shock absorber. Stretching the tow line shouldn’t be an abrupt kick forward but rather a gentle pull sideways. ”
Everybody is busy. People who had never been on boats before, who were complete strangers just seven weeks ago, are now working together in incredible harmony and with intense joy. I walk on deck and hear mostly laughter and singing between the few words of coordinating the tasks.
“Drazka, this fender is perfect; that one is a bit higher and diagonal. Bodhi, I want you in the dinghy with Ben, watch my hand signals, the VHF is only back-up. Travis, the roaming fender is ready on port midship. Allie, are you filming this? ”
What an adventure, what an experience. The tug pulls us into port. Then, it hands over the tow line to a mini tug that pulls us into the shipyard. The shipyard employees line the docks, waiting to catch our mooring lines.
By 17:00, Argo is tied on both sides to the shipyard hauling docks. The atmosphere on deck is festive and celebratory. We all grin with a sense of accomplishment, give high fives, and take selfies. I check the dock lines. They are perfect. The generators are off. Nav instruments are off. Breathe.
Travis, our managing director, has flown in from Florida with a spare propeller in his luggage. He’s also standing on the dock, hard to recognize under his white hard hat among the shipyard gang. He’s asking for the ship’s stamp so he can complete some clearance documents. He brings the customs officer onboard. “No cigarettes, no alcohol, no firearms, no pets “. We are cleared within minutes. Our yellow quarantine flag is replaced by the Mauritian courtesy flag.
Everybody has been packed to go since 07:00. We all step on land for the first time in 16 days. Our taxis are waiting patiently on the dock. They take us to the immigration office for passport control, continue to Grand Baie to check in at our shoreside accommodations, and then to dinner at a super-cool beach restaurant.
For me personally, it was a sigh of relief. The captain’s role is 24/7 responsibility for everybody’s life and well-being. Tonight I can fall asleep without checking the weather forecast and the anchor alarm, without thinking about the wind, about tomorrow’s sail-plan, about the hydraulic oil level, about the propane sensor, about countless other things that keep us safe onboard. Tonight I can relax. Tonight, I can sleep without interruptions by changing wind angles or passing ships on a collision course.
Stepping onto the dock, into the taxi, and leaving Argo behind at the shipyard is a rare opportunity for me to feel that weight lifting off my shoulders.
The morning’s endless waiting-patience-frustration exercise is already forgotten. We’re in beautiful Mauritius. The stars are shining. Our stomachs are full. We’ve sailed across an Ocean. We lost our prop and made it into the shipyard anyway. We can do hard things. Not only it was possible, it was also fun! It was remarkable, exhilarating, and inspiring. I feel privileged to have such an awesome crew. I can’t wait for the rest of our voyage to Africa.